Parenting Troubles
by The Glass Sea
Summary: Ever since Valka took down the Red Death 20 years ago, Berk has been a pretty quiet island. Right up until her son rescues and nurtures a baby Night Fury. Adult!Hiccup Baby!Toothless. Altered timeline, a lot of fluff.


**I started this like a really long time ago. Like probably right after I started Dragon Master. But I thought I'd post it. Don't expect any updates soon, but I really like this story so eventually it will get updated. Eventually.**

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

* * *

For a moment, Stoick thought his son had actually listened to him.

The moment passed quickly.

Devastating winter was about to set in, and chunks of ice scraped along against the side of the boat as it rocked. Stoick stood at the edge of the boat, his hands full of thick ropes. "Hiccup!" He shouted over his shoulder.

This was their last shot at fishing before the sea froze so much that they wouldn't be able to sail on it. Stoick had wanted to stock up as much as they could before then. He had taken Hiccup along, because he thought it'd be good to get him off Berk for a bit.

Devastating winter was typically spent cooped up the house, and when the blizzards lessened to just a snowstorm, Vikings would squeeze through upper windows and head to the storehouses for food and other supplies. And if they were lucky, spend a few hours in the Great Hall and enjoy everyone's company before the blizzard started again. And then they'd be shut up at home again for gods only knew how long. Well, usually it was about a month, shorter if they were lucky.

Almost a whole month of dealing with a cabin-fevered teenager who had a nasty habit of getting himself in dangerous and precarious situations was not the highlight of Stoick's year. Hopefully allowing him to blow off steam before the blizzards began would help keep his clumsy son from doing anything too crazy.

Hopefully.

It wasn't working. Hiccup had spent all of the fishing trip so far with his sketchbook in his lap, trying to get the hang doodling with that new ink Johann had brought him. Stoick hadn't bothered him, since they hadn't exactly been catching any fish. But now, they must have happened upon a school of fish, or something, because finally the nets were filling.

Bucket and Mulch started pulling in the nets, and Stoick and Burnthair rushed over to help. The nets had nearly frozen over in places, and the stiff, icy rope bit into their hands. But Hiccup stayed right where he was, his eyes fixed on the sky.

"That's strange," Stoick could hear Hiccup say to himself. "Pretty strange to see a Flying Gator out-"

"Hiccup!" Stoick bellowed again. "Get over here and help!"

For a moment, Stoick thought his son had actually listened to him.

The moment passed quickly.

There had been silence, like Hiccup had possibly heard him and came to join them. But then he heard: "Oh my Odin- Dad, did you see that?!"

Stoick grunted, as they hauled the catch on board. It wasn't the most abundant, but in this cold weather, everything counted. He was sure they had more than enough in the storehouses for the winter, but one could never be too careful. "Now, Hiccup, pay attention, I want to-"

Splash.

Stoick froze mid-sentence, looking up.

Vikings didn't panic, didn't have moments where they felt fear. Or at least they said so. But anyone who took a glance at Stoick would say without a single doubt that the look that crossed his face was pure horror.

The thing that had sent this un-vikingly terror flooding through him was not just that splash.

It was also the sudden absence of his son.

* * *

As soon as Hiccup had spotted the dragon overhead, he had flipped to a new page in his sketchbook, and roughly drew out the figure against the dying light. As it came closer, Hiccup worked on shading in the sky with his pencil, defining the clouds with that new squid ink. _Wouldn't it be nice to have a bunch of colors to work with..._ He sighed at the thought, ignoring his father calling his name. To truly capture the sun on the icy sea, he'd need more than charcoal and ink.

He watched the dragon as it drew closer, tilting his head as he tried to identify it. Short wings, not very large- He frowned. A Flying Gator. "That's strange... pretty strange to see a Flying Gator out here," he mumbled to himself. They were almost always asleep this time of year, buried deep in the marshes and bogs. Not flying over the ocean- unless it was getting a last minute meal before settling down to sleep.

As soon as the thought came, Hiccup noticed something caught in the dragon's talons. Something small and wiggling.

He hoped it wasn't what he thought it was.

The Flying Gator was directly overhead, and Hiccup could clearly see its prey. Flying Gators were one of the more vicious dragon species, and unlike most dragons, didn't have a problem with raiding a nest and devouring eggs or dragon infants. The squirming meal in the dragon's claws was, without a doubt, a baby dragon.

"Hiccup! Get over here and help!" But Hiccup wasn't listening to his father's demand. Before he even realized what he was doing, Hiccup had grabbed Burnthair's bow that had been left abandoned on the deck.

Then there was an arrow on the string, and then it was in the air.

Hiccup stared in pure astonishment as the arrow met its target.

Well, almost.

Hiccup didn't want to hurt the dragon, but he certainly didn't want the little dragon in its claws to be brutally murdered and then eaten. Yes, it was the way nature worked, but it was rather unfair for a predator that could eat anything to eat the children of its own kind.

His arrow whistled into the air, and zipped straight past the Flying Gator.

He had learned archery, once Stoick had given up on teaching him with any close-range weapons. Even still, he certainly wasn't gifted in that department, and hadn't thought he could hit the dragon, or at least get that close.

The Gator screeched in alarm, dropping its cargo in its wild swerve to avoid the arrow. Seeing the Viking ship below, it abandoned any plans to retrieve its meal and flapped off, as fast as its wings could carry it. The tiny black blur tumbled down into icy ocean, and Hiccup watched its descent, wide-eyed.

"Oh my Odin- Dad, did you see that?!" Hiccup spun to see his father, who was surveying the catch. Stoick didn't even look up.

Well, that was nothing out of the usual.

Hiccup yanked off his vest, keeping his eyes on the hatchling struggling in the water, only a few yards from the boat. Its wings were flapping uselessly, and it went under.

Without another thought for what he was about to do, Hiccup dove.

* * *

Stoick leaned over the side of the ship, scanning the water for his son. The water was deadly this time of year; a few minutes too long, and-

Hiccup's head broke the surface, and Stoick almost sighed with relief. Right up until Hiccup started swimming _away_ from the boat.

"Hiccup!" Stoick boomed.

His son ignored him, continuing to paddle out towards the struggling dragon. Its wings were dragging it down, and by the time Hiccup reached it, it had gone under and wasn't coming back up.

Hiccup dove down after it, floundering around until he got a secure hold on the little hatchling. He darted back up to the surface, the cold already set deep into his bones, and he was completely numb. He clutched at the dragon tightly, making sure to hold it above the water. It started wiggling and thrashing in his arm, and it was bigger than he had originally thought. Then it suddenly went still.

Please be breathing, he begged silently. If he loosened his hold to check if the little black mass was still alive, he wasn't sure he'd be able to get his grip back. His arms felt like limp noodles, and the boat seemed to be miles away. He forced his numb legs to kick towards the boat. Bucket tossed out a line to him, and Hiccup wrapped it around his arm, not trusting his fingers to hold on.

The Viking was shivering violently by the time they pulled him back on board. Hiccup lay in a wet, cold mass on the wooden deck, breathing in the chilly air. He glanced down at the bundle in his arms, which was wiggling and spitting. Alive. Hiccup smiled. His smile fell away as his vision seemed to make the black creature in his arms double. He stared in amazement as he realized there was not one baby dragon, but two. Both the same shade of jet black, tails and wings in a tangled knot.

"Son!" Stoick bellowed, dropping to one knee to see if his son was alright. "Hiccup!"

Hiccup met his eyes, wearily. "I'm okay," he said through chattering teeth.

His father helped him into an upright position. By now, the tiny dragons had gone completely still, as if realizing that they were not safe in the claws of their mother. They had no idea what was going to happen. Both of them were shaking, and Hiccup knew that cold had to be bad for dragons, especially ones as little as these.

Carefully, he placed the baby dragons in his waistcoat, as Stoick yanked off his fur cloak and wrapped it around his son. Hiccup couldn't tell if Stoick was relieved or furious.

"What were you THINKING?!" His father exploded. Furious it was, then.

Hiccup opened his mouth to explain, but Stoick cut him off. "You could have gotten yourself killed! Of all the foolish, irresponsible-"

The dragon hatchlings wiggled inside Hiccup's shirt, and he pulled his arms through his sleeves to hold them even closer to himself. He could still feel them shaking and squirming, but they dove as deep into his arms as they could for warmth. A good sign, probably.

"Hiccup, are you even listening to me?!"

No, of course he wasn't.

"Hiccup!"

The boy jerked his head up. "Sorry dad." He said, looking a little sheepish. Stoick sighed, running a hand over his face. What was he going to do with this boy of his?

"We've got a full load, Chief. Want to turn back?"

Looking at the darkening skies, Stoick grunted. They'd be lucky to make it home before it started snowing, if Bucket's bucket was anything to go by.

* * *

They didn't get lucky: it was snowing heavily by the time they reached Berk's harbor, and Stoick sent Hiccup home immediately while he and the rest of the men loaded the fish in the warehouse. Even though Hiccup's years of destroying buildings and blowing things up seemed to be behind him, Stoick still wasn't ready to trust him with all the food they had for winter.

Hiccup didn't seem to mind, he had other things to worry about.

Like the two baby dragons stuffed down his shirt.

He held them close as he trudged home, the snow already an inch on the ground, and coming down harder by the minute. Their shivering had mostly subsided, but the movement he often felt was enough to ensure him that they were alive.

As soon as he was home and had started up a rather meager fire, he dared to peek down his shirt. All he could see was a strange and rather oblong black shape that breathed and wiggled occasionally. His shirt was completely soaked. He'd need to put on something warmer, for himself and also for the two little dragons. Hiccup wondered if they'd bite him if he tried to pull them out.

Carefully, carefully, he put his hand around one of the little dragons. For a moment it was all floppy and still- and then it wiggled like mad, squeaking for all it was worth. "No, no, it's okay!" Hiccup cried, not letting it go and trying to maneuver his other hand to grab onto the dragon without disturbing the twin.

He felt something wet close around his finger over and over again, and he tried to ignore it as he set the dragon in his lap. It was freaking out, and Hiccup held it in place with one hand and drew out the twin with his left.

This one squirmed a little bit, but was otherwise unfazed by the transition. He set it next to the squirming one, who settled down at the sight of its sibling. They curled together again, but the active one wouldn't stop whining.

 _Now what?_

Keeping them warm would be a priority, and they'd probably be hungry- but what did you feed a baby dragon? Hiccup picked up the dragons again, and set them on his bed while he changed out of his wet clothes. He then grabbed one of the vests he had outgrown that summer and placed it on the bed.

He reached for the dragons. Hiccup saw it coming, but he didn't have time to pull his hands away. The hatchling that had been panicking on him opened its mouth wide, and then chomped down on Hiccup's finger.

The most surprising thing was that Hiccup felt a wetness, and pressure, but no small pinpricks of pain from the tiny jagged teeth of a dragon. No way, he thought as he tugged his finger free. "You're toothless!"

In response, the tiny dragon opened his gummy mouth wide again, green eyes narrowed, like he was threatening to bite Hiccup again if he didn't back off.

Adorable.

Hiccup scooped them up and wrapped them in the vest, and kept an eye on them while he rummaged around in the kitchen.

Bread? Fruit? Hiccup dug deeper through the food supplies, and upon finding nothing that looked like a toothless baby dragons could eat, he ran to the icebox. Milk? Milk was probably worth a shot. More fruit, cheese, mutton- ohdearodinwhatisthatsmell?!- eggs, and fish.

Hiccup grabbed the jug of yak milk, two eggs, and a fish. Hopefully one of these would work. If not, he'd try the mutton. _But what if they don't eat any of it?_ he fretted, but tried to push the thought away. Something would work.

He poured a small bowl of milk and set it on the edge of the fireplace. As he waited for it to heat, he tried to figure out how a toothless dragon would eat an egg. He picked it up, and walked over to the two hatchlings.

The biter was resting practically on top of its sibling, and lifted its head and its whimpers grew in volume the closer Hiccup got. It was scared. Scared of him. That was a first. Nothing was afraid of Hiccup. Nothing.

"It's okay, it's okay." Hiccup set the egg down in front of the two. The one on the bottom opened blue eyes, and eyed it wearily, then shut its eyes again. The biter sniffed at the egg, then drew back, and stared at Hiccup.

Okay, so the egg was a no.

Hiccup put the eggs back in the icebox and tried the warm milk. No luck again. The toothless one had sniffed at it and turned up its nose again. Finally, Hiccup tried the fish, and the two went nuts. Both started biting at it, but the scales prevented them from getting to the meat. "Alright," Hiccup smiled. "Hold on, guys."

He scaled the fish quickly. Stoick would have been impressed- Hiccup hated this kind of thing, ("It makes me nauseous", Hiccup would say. "Vikings could get nauseous", Stoick would say) but he pushed through the pain and got it over with quickly. He was thoroughly disgusted when he was done, but managed to chop up some of the meat into almost mush, and tried to salvage the rest of the fish for his father.

The mush was then presented as an offering to the dragons, who gobbled it up. Much to Hiccup's surprise, the blue-eyed one had teeth, the small pearls gleaming as it chomped on the slightly larger morsels.

"That's good, isn't it?" Hiccup couldn't help the stupid grin that split his face. He had saved two baby dragons from certain death, and he was very pleased with himself about it.

Blue-eyes crept forward slowly, sniffing at Hiccup's hand. The Viking held his breath, not wanting to scare the little dragon off. After a moment, blue-eyes huffed, throwing his weight against Hiccup's hand like he planned on using it as a pillow.

"Alright, little guy." Hiccup moved his hand, but made sure to tuck the tiny dragon into his old vest. The biter jumped on Hiccup's hand, wrapping soft gums around a finger before going to curl up with his brother.

Hiccup left them there by the fire, sleeping soundly after their rather stressful day.

* * *

Dinner was almost finished by the time Stoick returned. That was something that Stoick could almost always count on Hiccup for. Hiccup wasn't the best cook, but he was far better than Stoick, even if he skimped on the meat most of the time. Tonight was no different, so Stoick threw a leg of mutton into the cooking pot, nestled between a few potatoes.

Hiccup seemed preoccupied while he scraped a handful of veggies onto two plates. He had hardly even looked up when Stoick got back. They sat at the table, the faraway look still in Hiccup's eyes.

"The stores look good this year."

"Mmm."

"Bucket doesn't seem to think this winter will be so bad. Not so tight as last year, at least." Stoick got up, retrieving his mutton out of the cooking pot. He saw something out of the corner of his eye, and had to blink once or twice to understand what he was seeing.

"Hiccup."

His son didn't even look up. "Mmm?"

"What. Is. That?" Stoick pointed to the bundle of vest and dragon.

"Oh. That. The Flying Gator dropped them. They're cute, aren't they?" Hiccup got up out of his chair to stand by Stoick and admire the two sleeping figures.

Stoick was shaking his head, running a hand over his face. "You brought home two baby dragons."

"Yeah, why?"

"We can't keep them."

"Sure we can. I didn't dive into ice water for nothing."

Stoick groaned. "Hiccup…"

"Okay, okay, I know it's winter, but I can't just throw them out! They're tiny, and they don't eat a lot. I promise to keep them under control- you won't even know they're here."

This was a very bad idea. Stoick knew it, but he also knew that Hiccup wasn't about to take no for an answer. The boy had so much of his mother in him- more than either father or son wanted to admit. "Fine. But they're gone as soon as devastating winter is over."

Hiccup grinned. "Of course."

Surely this time, Stoick's son would actually listen to him.

But Stoick rather doubted it.

* * *

 **Yup. That's... that's it.**


End file.
